What the Future Holds
by I love Ceiling
Summary: The War of the Elves and Sauron has begun. And Thranduil of Greenwood is about to meet someone that will change him forever.
1. Of the Prince and the Seer

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's masterpieces, I wish I did but I don't. I I don't own anything, not even this computer, it's my dad's, so please don't sue me. Thanks.

a/n: K well, first off I would like to thank my betas Rebecca and Chloe. You guys are awesome! And secondly I would just like to thank Evanescence for inspiration. I saw their music video for "My Immortal" and then sort of sat down and started writing this. So thank you to you all! I know that this chapter is short, and the chapters will get longer so hang tight- *Luthien*

Thranduil shivered as a cool, winter breeze blew silently across the pond. The mist that hung in the air danced with the wind and then stopped, only to begin again. Thranduil sighed and let out a cloud of air as he gently dipped his hand into the water. The elf sat in a tree branch that bent over the pond, just enough to touch the water. It was his secret spot, the place that no one else knew about and the place he came to be alone. 

However life in Greenwood was not troubling, but rather full of happiness and light. But somehow Thranduil felt a sense of longing, especially during the dark days of winter when most elves locked themselves indoors and dreamt of the coming days of the coming days of spring. But he stayed outdoors, wrapped in his evergreen cloak, searching. Searching for something that he could not lay a finger on, for he was not sure what it was.

Aside from his duties as the royal prince of Greenwood, Thranduil spent most of his time away from the palace and explored the forest as much he could. Sometimes he would bring a book or two with him and sit up in the trees and read. Thranduil felt as if there were two sides to him: Thranduil the Prince and Thranduil the Wanderer. 

The elf dipped his hand back into the silver water of the pond, and watched the ripples travel to the other side. But across the pond he saw a fair, silver, figure kneeling towards the water. Careful not to startle whoever it was, Thranduil held his breath and tried to move to get a better look. There was an elven-maid standing there, clad in silver robes with a circlet of moonstones set upon here head. She had long black hair that flew around loosely in the wind and covered most of her face. She, too, dipped her hand in the water and drank from it, for the water of the pond did not make one drowsy like the rest of the water around Greenwood. Quickly and quietly, Thranduil scooted over on the branch. He could see her perfectly now. Suddenly the branch began to creak and Thranduil twisted and turned, trying to find a way back to shore. Then, all of a sudden the branch snapped and he and the branch were thrown down into the water.

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Thranduil plunged down with the branch into the ice cold water. His clothes weighed him down as he struggled to reach the surface. His cloak was snagged in the branch that pulled him further and further towards the bottom. He twisted and turned trying to break free but it was no use. Thranduil gave up began to let himself sink. Suddenly, he was yanked by his shoulders and was pulled up towards the surface. With his cloak still attached to branch, he tugged at it again harder than before until it at last ripped free. He let himself be pulled towards the surface and fell into a daze.

At last he reached the shore and he was laid down on the frozen ground and began to sputter and cough up water. Thranduil slowly began to open his eyes and immediately seized his coughing. For kneeling over him was the silvery elf-maid he had seen before. Her dark-brown eyes stared at him, as if she was looking upon an old friend and yet it was almost as if she was looking upon him for the very first time, memorizing every strand of his golden hair and every curve upon his fair face.

"So," she said. "We finally meet." 

Her voice was deep and haunting, yet it seemed gentle and good-natured. Thranduil didn't understand, but continued to stare into her beautiful eyes.

"I foresaw you." said staring back into his blue eyes.

"Foresaw me?" Thranduil coughed.

"Yes, I foresaw your death." she paused. "I foresaw that you would freeze to death."

Thranduil shivered at that thought. Elves did not like to speak of death, but they were not naive to it. Who was this women?

"You must be freezing!" she exclaimed breaking free from their gaze. She pulled off her cloak and wrapped it around him. He sat up and smiled at her, pulling the cloak tight around him. 

"What is your name?" Thranduil asked quietly.

"I'm called Lárien by most." she said. "You are the King's son are you not?"

"Yes." Thranduil responded. "How did you know?"

"By the circlet you are wearing your highness."

Thranduil blushed. We had he forgotten to take it off? When he normally left the palace he would take it off and store it in his room but for some reason tonight he had left it on.

Both of them were silent for a moment. The wind blew around the forest making the leafless trees rustle in its wake. Thranduil no longer shivered with Lárien's cloak around him and he tried to think of what to say next.

"It's... it's fairly late," he began. "Would you like to come back to the palace with me?

Lárien smiled and shook her head. 

"No I can't. I must go. Perhaps another time." She stood up. "Will you be all right?" 

"I think so." said Thranduil standing up slowly. 

"Excellent." she said. "Then I must bid thee farewell." 

Thranduil frowned. 

"But I have a feeling we will meet again Thranduil son of Oropher." she said seeing his disappointment. 

"Farewell. And thank you!" he quickly added.

"You are most welcome!" Lárien said as she disappeared into the forest.

And Thranduil was left by the pond all by himself wrapped in Lárien's cloak and sighed. "Farewell sweet Lárien!" he said to himself and began to make his way back home.


	2. We meet the king

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's masterpieces, I wish I did but I don't. I I don't own anything, not even this computer, it's my dad's, so please don't sue me. Thanks.

a/n: During my research for this story, I found two theories:

a: Thranduil and his father were some of the Sindar that traveled east from Lindon before the building of Bara-dur and later Thranduil founded Greenwood the Great

b: Oropher (Thranduil's father) was King of Greenwood before him, thus suggesting that he founded the realm

I choose theory b because it there was not much info I could find on theory a. But I thought I should just let you know that there were two different ones out there. Which is correct we will never really know.

-Luthien

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"Thranduil!" his father shouted as he tried to slip quietly through the kitchen door.

"Normally I would ask you where you've been all evening, but since that has become such a predictable question of late I will rephrase that and ask you what you've been doing. You're soaked!"

"I... I..."

"And where might I ask did u get that cloak?"

"Well... I..."

"Oh never mind! Sit down and I'll make us some tea. The you can explain yourself."

Grateful to have an excuse to be quiet, Thranduil slid into the chair next to him. He inhaled the lovely scents of the kitchen and felt calmer. He was ready to take his father's punishment.

"So," Oropher began. "start at the beginning."

Thranduil told him everything about falling into the pond, Lárien saving him, and her prophecy. 

"Interesting. I did not know that there was a maiden in your life my son."

"No! Valar no! I had only just met her!" Thranduil protested.

"She had foreseen you, you say?"

Thranduil nodded.

"Interesting indeed. Did she say anything else?" Oropher asked.

"Not exactly. She gave me her cloak and told me that we would meet again someday."

"Perhaps you will. But until then I think you should get some sleep. And don't forget to take off you wet clothes."

"So you're not punishing me?" Thranduil asked hopefully.

"No, no not this time. But if you keep running off like this then perhaps it will change."

Thranduil smiled and hugged his father.

"Thank you!"

"Now run off to bed Thranduil. See you in the morning."


	3. Larien

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's masterpieces, I wish I did but I don't. I I don't own anything, not even this computer, it's my dad's, so please don't sue me. Thanks.

a/n: Alrightly, now just incase u didn't know, lets clear some things up:

Nána= mother

Atto= father

Namaarie= farewell

I think that was a bit elvish that you all knew. Enjoy! -Luthien

Lárien paced quickly through the forest and back to her home. She was relatively new to Greenwood for she had just moved there from Rivendell. She lived in a deep thicket of aspen and oak trees renovated to a functional house to live in. The ceiling was of an magical glass dome that changed with the seasons, protecting her from all sorts of weather. It was concealed, so that no passerby could see it was there. Only one looking for it could find it.

She strolled up to the wooden door and carefully placed her hand upon it and watched the delicate carvings on it light up. She gently eased the door open and slid in. Inside she found her room just as she'd left it: somewhat cluttered, with a fire in the hearth and a white cat sleeping away on the couch. She shivered slightly as she sat down in front of the fire to warm up, for she had given her cloak to Thranduil. 

Lárien stared deeply into the ever-changing flames of the fire.

Thranduil... was it just her or had his eyes shown a flame of romantic interest? 

"Of course not!" Lárien though aloud. The cat sturred from his place on the couch and came to sit lay next to her. She began stroke him softly.

"Hmmmmm... his eyes... they seemed to draw me in... as if he was longing for something..." she whispered quietly to herself.

"Perhaps I should meditate on this." 

And with that Lárien got up and headed for the spiral stairs that led up to her dreaming room.

The dreaming room was the place where she had most of her visions and the place she came to clarify the ones she had not had there. It was at the top of a tower that reached a bit above the tree tops, just enough so the sky could be seen. 

At last Lárien reached the top and began to light the many candles around the room and burned the lavender incense. She relaxed and laid herself down on the soft mat the lay in the middle of the floor. Lárien allowed her eyes to close and breathed in the lavender scented air. The moonstones on her circlet began to flare into a deep blue and her eyes shot open. 

"Allow me to See into the life of Thranduil, Oropher's son. Past, present and future..." she chanted.

Suddenly, sliver smoke began to ripple across the magical ceiling unveiling what looked like a smudged watercolor painting of an ocean sunset. Gradually the picture began to clarify itself and showed a young elfling-perhaps- Thranduil standing on a dock, holding his father's hand. Tears were streaming down the young boy's face and buried his face in his father's cloak. Lárien began to hear the sounds of gulls crying and the lapping of the sea amongst the boy's sobs. 

"Oh Atto!" he cried. "Why does Nána have to leave?"

"It was her time my son." his father replied gathering the boy up in his arms. " Do not despair, you shall see her again. I promise."

The boy lifted his head out of his father's chest and looked out towards the horizon where a elven boat was sailing out to sea. He waved and called out in an unsteady voice,

"Namaarie Nána!"

And then it almost seemed as if a woman in the back of the boat had heard them and waved back. The boy sniffled and wiped away the last of his tears with the back of his hand.

"Come my son," said his father. "Best we be getting home." 

And with that the vision faded into the next: the present.

Again the sliver smoke blew across the ceiling, fading out the stars and the oncoming clouds of the night. The next vision showed the same boy, who was now much older. Sparks of wisdom were now shown in his deep blue eyes, something Lárien had not noticed in him before. He was lying on his bed, staring into space, sleeping an elven sleep. His breath was deep and even and he seemed very much at peace with himself. Lárien gazed longingly at the sleeping Thranduil and wished for a fleeting second that she could reach out and touch him, caress his soft blonde hair, or lay her hand upon his smooth cheek. 

Then, his breath began to quicken and Lárien awoke herself from her daze. Beads of sweat formed around his forehead and his eyes pressed shut as if to block and odious image. He muttered slightly to himself until at last he screamed,

"ATTO! NO!" 

Seconds later the door burst open and Oropher ran in. 

"Thranduil? Are you alright? What happened?" he asked as he sat down on the bed. 

Thranduil's breath began to slow down and he relaxed. A soft smile curved his lips and it appeared he did not recognize father's presence and regained his peaceful state. Oropher reached out and touch his son's forehead and felt for a fever and found none. Reassured that is son would be alright, he kissed Thranduil's head and tip-toed quietly out of the room. 

Lárien watched Thranduil sleep for a few more minutes. She watched his chest rise and fall and she wished she could reach out to him and help ward off the bad dreams that troubled him. But then the silver smoke ebbed away at the vision and moved into the next: the Future.


End file.
